The Righteous Die First
by Essie Aster
Summary: The boundaries between worlds and dreams are blurred, and one woman stands in the crossfire of an eternal conflict. Continuation of The Dream
1. Prologue

Title: The Righteous Die First

Author: Essie Aster

Category: Star Wars

Genre: Probably (mild) Horror

Rating: PG-13 most likely, R to be on the safe side

Summary: A sorta-continuation of "The Dream." (could be a continuation, could be a fanfic of my own work o.O) Sorry, but major plot-bunny attack. I'd go hunting, but I'm too tired to do that :P I guess this could fall into the Mary-Sue category, but since it's kinda an AU, I don't feel bad about throwing a real world character into the situations. Basically, the woman from "The Dream," she has a name now, course you won't know it for a few chapters, but hey, it's there, is taken to Coruscant to bear a child. Sounds corny, I know, but there's really more to it than that. Course, I could summarize the entire plot, but I prefer to keep the actual summary part down to a sentence.

Warning: I would advise reading "The Dream" before this, only because I'm not sure how much, or even if, it will make sense. There may be massive confusion for a while, there may not be. To cover my butt, a word of warning, "The Dream" _is_ rated R for very good reasons. I could tell you exactly what, but I'm pretty sure you can guess. Choice is yours. You may not need to read it, you may want to, *shrug* dunno. I'm not sure if this is going to completely destroy the effect of my last piece, but, hehe, I suppose that's up to you to risk if you actually liked that one.

A Word of Explanation: I'm saying it's AU, but I'm not really sure about that. "The Dream" definitely was. This one, I mean, it's set four years prior to TPM, and it has all of the big characters (yes, to be honest, Qui-Gon actually has a non Essie-hates-the-oaf role o.O) but some of them, ok, I'll say it, the Sith, the Jedi, don't act in the 'traditional' George Lucas manner, which is really evident as the story progresses. (then again, I can't think of anyone who actually buys the whole Lucas-Jedi/Sith characterizations *shrug*) 

Please realize that this is all based off of a dream, so it does have its cheesy, unrealistic moments, but they're intentional. I don't normally write fics like this, mostly because I know, as a reader, I despise reading stories that throw off traditional characterization and have odd (and probably over-used) plots. However, this is in my head, and dammit, if I don't write it down, it's gonna drive me nutz. Besides, I'm sure there's someone out there that'll read this and like it. *not gonna say anything about some of the other DM fics out there, just not even going there*

I know this intro's really long, but I want to let you know something of what to expect. I know, I for one really dislike misleading summaries, so I'm just letting you know now. I don't think it's incredibly cheesy. Looking over the plot outline, it is kinda hokey at parts, and it doesn't always make sense. While I don't think this is my best work, by any stretch, I'm enjoying taking on a new genre and being more relaxed about it. I know I've got a really long intro here, and I'm really only writing it to cover my butt, avoid angry readers and flames telling me that people are out of character and the setting isn't correct. I honestly don't care if you flame my work, that's not really a big deal to me. However, this way you can't say that I didn't warn you :P 

****

Prologue

She cowered in the darkness, unable to resist the overwhelming terror that held her. The frigid air from the open window washed over her bare form, only adding to her uncontrollable shivering. Tears streaked down her cheeks, falling unheeded onto her swollen arm. A part of her consciousness registered the ceaseless bleating of the alarm, but it was only a dim hope, fading away as the minutes slipped past.

She had seen evil before, had felt the terrible auras emanating from the spiritual bodies. She had even heard them call to her, taunt her, abuse her. But never before had it been so tactile. Never before had one touched her and left its mark. This was different. Her broken body was the irrefutable evidence to the horror of the night. Evil was no longer a terrible phantom incapable of physical contact. It had done more than just touch her, and now it stood before her, shattering all that was left of her courage.

A man, a monster, a demon, she did not know. She could not make sense of what had happened, nor was any reasoning ability available to her in the fear induced trance. Time progressed as if it was part of gel compound, everything slowing and hovering as it moved.

Her attention was captured by a whisper of movement, the barely tangible vibrations of a footfall. She looked up again, trying to meld into the wall as the too familiar creature came within an arm's length of her. She wanted to turn away, to close her eyes and shut out the image before her. Yet she could not tear herself away from his demonic gaze.

He seemed to speak to her without words. She knew what he wanted. She did not understand how or why, but she understood that she was only a tool, to be used and discarded.

'You're not real,' she disputed, more to convince herself than anything.

The creature turned from her, disappearing briefly into the shadows across her room. When he emerged, he tossed a dark bundle at her. She let it land on her, slapping her face and stinging her damaged skin. A new sob choked her as she pinched the coarse fabric between her fingers.

Carelessly, he grabbed her broken arm and pulled her to her feet. She cried out as her nerves rushed white hot explosions to her brain, pulling her mind into sharp focus. Somehow, she managed to maintain a feeble grip on the familiar cloth - her grandfather's World War II overcoat. The creature ripped it out of her hand and hung it on her shoulders.

She winced as she pushed her arm into the sleeve, shame rising in her cheeks. She quickly closed the front, holding it tight with her good hand as his hand clamped onto her shoulder. He turned her away from him, toward the window. 

'I'll die first,' She whispered while the wind froze the tears on her cheeks.

She knew the fallacy in her words even as she spoke them. This creature would do whatever it took to keep her alive. The death she had experienced was not complete, and for a purpose she could not imagine.

She tried not to think of what he would do to her, of what would happen if she failed to produce the results he wanted. As she looked out into the autumn night, she caught her last glimpse of the celestial bodies she knew so well. She held that image in her thoughts as she felt his grip on her shoulders tighten and the atmosphere shift. She was torn away from her life, away from this world, into darkness, into a nightmare that had only just begun.

A/N: short, vague, symbolic, I know. Chapter 1 is almost finished. Should have it posted within the next few days. Summer semester's almost over! *cheer*


	2. Chapter 1

****

Chapter 1 

The darkness seemed an ethereal constant, an all encompassing void that never left. Her dreams were dark, and her reality was darker. With a start she awoke, jolting away from the cold stone floor, clutching at her grandfather's overcoat, holding to it like a lifeline. 

She felt somehow exposed in the absolute darkness, as if someone was watching her. She shivered, in part for fear, in part a mere response to the chilled air. After a long period of quiet, she began to wonder if she was trapped inside a benevolent dream from which she would wake at any time. Then it changed. She could not explain how, but she sensed a stir of activity far off. As it drew nearer she recognized the signature of the one who had brought her here. She shrank away from the phantom, backing against a wall she had not known was so near. 

Her back still trying to meld to the wall, she slid down to the floor and drew her knees to her chest. She tried to find the courage within her to resist the uncontrollable fear and turn it at least into rage, but the closer it came the more she realized how broken she had been made. Interwoven with that was the apathy she felt toward her condition. She had not the energy nor the strength to care that she had already given up hope.

Suddenly, a sliver of light formed the outline of a door not too far away. She squinted her eyes and turned away from it, her eyes already burning, unable to adapt quickly to the change. It was not long before she was lifted roughly to her feet and forced to face an evil, which, by far, surpassed that of her attacker.

It was a cloaked and hooded figure, barely taller than her and hardly more than a meter away. She tried to wriggle away from him, to feel the cold stone of the wall against her back again, but quickly remembered the hand of the demon clamped onto her arm. She looked toward him at first, momentarily forgetting about his presence, and found herself locked in his fiery gaze. She cowered from him, unable to tear her eyes away from his. The creature's face was expressionless, and his eyes held only hate - no pleasure, no hunger, just pure hate. It was not a hatred of her alone, but one he turned to everything on which he looked, except for the cloaked figure.

He chuckled behind his cowl, a sadistic cackle that drew her gaze away from the horned creature and to the now illuminated stone floor.

'You are right to fear him, young one,' the cloaked figure said. 'And that fear you hold for him delivers you into my hands.'

She was shaking now, visibly and uncontrollably. Tears sprang to her eyes as her legs turned to gel beneath her. The creature released her and let her fall to the floor. She caught herself on her wounded arm and cried out in pain, looking up to see scorn in his eyes. For a moment she thought she heard a quiet laugh as the two exited the room, but she looked away, letting her tears fall unheeded to the darkened floor.

*****

It could have been months or weeks, or it could have been mere days since she arrived. The darkness had lessened slightly, and her eyes had adjusted to where she could see dim outlines and a few features. She counted the large stones that made up the floor, ceiling, and walls. She tried vainly to find the source of the dim light, anything to occupy her mind. But mostly she slept. Her body was still healing, and her mind had avalanched into a depressive state, sapping her strength and will to do anything. Often when she woke there would be a plate of food next to her, protein enriched gruel that was tasteless and as cold as the air in the room, though she had little energy to wonder where the food came from or how it arrived in her room.

After a while her body healed. Somewhere along the line her arm had been set and fused, though she did not remember it ever being cast or even tended. Her bruises faded and the cuts vanished, only a few leaving any residual scarring. Yet still she felt her strength and energy drained, as if there was yet one thing remaining that required her body's fuel. She was still exhausted.

At one time, as she lay on the unyielding floor, tucking her arm under her head to cushion it, she relaxed her body, closing off her senses and letting her mind wander as it pleased. She did not think of the past, for, in this hell, the past was not real. There was nothing in the future when her mind traveled that road, nothing but an emptiness in the coming tomorrow. So she explored the present. Reaching out, she 'felt' the boundaries of her room, and pushed beyond them, into the corridor outside. Her unconscious self tried to reach farther, but she was unable to do so. Thus, she returned to her prison and searched within herself. 

She searched her feelings, or what was left of them. She was not sad, not tangibly. Nor was she angry. She was empty, she noted with detached interest. Quietly, she heard a whisper, a tiny voice humming to itself. Her mind followed the voice deeper within her consciousness, and found it to be a part of her, yet not. Emotions and feeling rushed back to her suddenly as her lethargic thoughts accelerated back to their normal speed. Opening her eyes rapidly and simultaneously rising to her feet, she covered her mouth with her hand, swallowing hard as she felt bile rise in her throat. As she staggered back into the wall, she reached out to brace herself against it, shaking her head defiantly.

She was pregnant.

A/N: ok, that feels really dumb. I have to admit that I don't really like this chapter. It's sorta one of those necessary narratives that get the plot moving. Fun, ne? At any rate, thanks to all who read, and I promise this will get better. It's short, I know, but I feel like if I went on any more I would loose myself and not complete the chapter. *shrug* we'll see what happens.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The newly awakened voice was almost a comfort to her in her solitary prison. Yet the prospect of a child terrified her beyond what she had imagined. There had been a time, during her first years of college, that she longed to have a family of her own; to get married, and to have children to love and nurture. It had been a dream that she never anticipated, but always wished for. But these were not the circumstances she had envisioned for the conception of her first child, a child who was not even Human.

This was what _they_ wanted, to use her as a breeding tool. This was what everything had been about. For that reason she hated the creature taking form inside of her, hated it as much as she hated its father, if the demon could be called that.

Through the lethargy of despair came a sudden rush of rage. She threw herself at the wall where the door was hidden, pounding her fists against the immovable metal. She let go a wordless cry as she backed away from the wall, standing in the centre of the small room and looking up towards the juncture of wall and ceiling.

'I won't let you win!' she screamed at the walls. Tears burned in her eyes as she fought to ignore the tiny voice within her. 'I'll die first,' she yelled, her scream choked with sobs she would not let free. She waited for a response, anything, but nothing happened.

She had said those words before, knowing that it was a lie. Yet, as the days passed with no sense of her captors, she refused all forms of nourishment. Days turned to weeks, all of it passing in a blur to the barely conscious woman.

Her mind returned to a time she felt was only a dream. Her family before the accident. Her mother's tender smile. The way her brother would hold her in the nights when she was afraid. She remembered growing up in foster care. All the different schools she attended. The people who she touched and was touched by. And college, going to University. It had been her mother's dream, a dream her mother was never able to see fulfilled. Now she feared she would never complete it. Only a year left. One year and she would have been out in the world doing...something. But had it already been a year? It was impossible. Not more than a few months could have past, could it?

The small voice slowly faded into nothing as her own life-force began to diminish. Her body discharged the child's remains, but she was too weak to notice. Too tired to feel anything but the welcome warmth of slumber.

It was in this state that she was discovered, so close to the edge yet too far to fall. She was not gently revived as mechanical beings tended to her. They forced nourishment into her in whatever ways they could, handling her as callously as they themselves were. In only a few days time the master and his apprentice appeared and she began to wish that she had let the child live.

She was stronger by then, able to stand and move around again, though still lacking her former vitality. Too weak to fight the terror that gripped her by their mere presence. Too weak to push through the walls that confined her. Too weak to glare into the eyes of her captors. They did not speak a word to her or to eachother.

The demon's master stood by silently and watched as she relived her nightmare with no release. No end to the pain. No way to hide her humiliation. She had hoped they would kill her after what she had done. Her conscience demanded justice for her murderous suicide, but vain was any sort of hope. She began to view her circumstance as a punishment. While her body was ravaged from without, her heart and mind dueled for claim of her emotions. And when it was all over, she lay in a bloodied heap in the centre of the stony floor, teetering on the edge of consciousness, hating every part of herself as much as she hated the creature who did this to her.

'You're no better than him,' she whispered to herself, closing her eyes and rolling onto her side.

The cold air normally prevented her sleep. Yet, in the midst of her thoughts, sleep claimed her, and she forgot the sting of her wounds and the burning of her bare skin against the cold stone.

When she woke it was dark again. Black this time, as it was when she had first arrived. She shivered and sat up, her mind amazingly clear for the turmoil in her heart. She was afraid, afraid that she could possibly have conceived again, yes, but more than that was an unexplainable terror that drove her beyond what she was ready to do.

She found the tattered remains of her grandfather's coat were no longer on her, and fumbling around in the dark, she could not find it. Her hands gripped something coarse and heavy near the wall with the door, but when she lifted it to examine it, she found oversized, very thick pants and a simple tunic. Perhaps her captors had determined that they did not want her to freeze.

'That would be kind of them,' she said sardonically to herself, not believing that reasoning.

She did not understand, but right then, she really did not care either. She was cold, she was naked. Here were clothes. Once she was dressed she sat against the far wall and faced the closed door, trying to pierce the dark and find the outlines. The fabric of the clothes irritated her skin, some of it still boasting open wounds and raw patches. She tried not to think of what she looked like, or how she smelled, caked with blood and sweat.

For a time her mind blanked and she thought of nothing. It was a habit she had developed and it passed the time very quickly. She remembered nothing until the door suddenly opened to admit a robot carrying a small cup of gruel.

So she had been demoted to eating mush along with her new agony. _Not any more,_ she thought as, without a plan, without hesitation, she rushed the robot and slammed it into the stone wall. Once outside the room she found herself in a long corridor, extending equally both ways. Without thinking, without doing anything, she turned left, trusting fate or chance to guide her steps.

She passed no one. No people. No robots. No apprentice, for which she was infinitely grateful. Still trusting an unknown force to guide her, she made it out of where she was being held. Her captors had assumed she would not make it out of her room, much less the maze of twisting corridors, or they would have posted a guard or locked the door. But she did not think of the possibilities as she burst out into more darkness.

The alley was filled with the hum of what sounded like an enormous city. The unrecognizable babbling of thousands of voices. The growl of a feline predator and the cry of its unknown prey. The blaring of wild music and screaming of engines. It was night wherever she was, which was both good and bad.

Cautiously she walked through the alley and into the main street. Or what passed as a street.

A small vehicle flew past her at eye level, too close to her for comfort. Dozens more zoomed on the same plane, or above and below, sometimes vertical. Hundreds of beings crammed into the narrow railed balconies that served as sidewalks. Beings, they were not human. Most of them. Nearly all of them. Several glanced quickly at her, standing wide eyed at the entrance to the dark alley. No one's gaze lingered long.

She shook her head and almost took a step backward into the alley before remembering what she was flying from. She began to panic. Trapped from behind by pure evil. Hedged from the front by an aggregation of alien creatures and flying cars. She looked around quickly, left and right, then took a few steps across the balcony and looked up. Up to the towering buildings which had no top. Then down. Down to a sea of fog and perhaps a bottomless maze. She lost control.

With a choked gasp she turned and fled. She was not thinking. She was not trusting. It was a different flight than the one only moments before. She ran in a straight line, pushing her way through groups of people, causing stumbling and curses to erupt from the creatures. She heard nothing. She saw nothing. Her breathing was fast and shallow as her reflexes tried to keep up with her racing blood and adrenaline rush.

Soon the crowds began to thin until there was almost no one apart from herself. And still she ran until her body began to give out under her. She continued on at a slower, stumbling pace, not looking as she approached the end of the balcony where it turned to a different direction. If she had been looking, she would have turned back.

As it was, she collided with one of two cloaked and hooded figures. The figure held onto her for a moment, just long enough for her to realize that something with a familiar power and familiar cloak had her in its hands.

Too weak to think coherently or quell the panic still pushing into her mind, she struggled and pulled away from the figure.

'I'm not going back!' she screamed as she amazingly broke free of the hold. She quickly backed away from the figure, only to back into the other, whom she had not even realized was there.

'We're not going to hurt you,' a softly accented voice said from beneath the deep hood of the figure she had fought with.

Not believing it, she elbowed the body behind her and turned to flee. She was trapped by the two, who had maneuvered her between them on the narrowing balcony.

Her legs gave out under her, and the figure behind her supported her by grabbing onto her arm. 'Please, let me go,' she begged, tears starting to fill her wide, dilated eyes.

Brushing the hood off his face, a older human revealed himself before her. 'Obi-Wan, let her go,' the man commanded, taking a step toward the terrified woman.

The one who held her released her slowly and she would have collapsed had not the man before her caught her. 'We're not going to harm you,' he reassured as the other figure had before.

She looked up at him for a moment, still to frightened to trust her feelings. The man saw as well as sensed her continued fear and spoke again.

'My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi.'

The woman looked quickly at the other figure who had since removed his hood, but her eyes were blinded by a single word: apprentice. She struggled weakly against Qui-Gon's hold on her, but he did not let go. She moaned an unintelligible plea as the young man called Obi-Wan approached her.

'Be still. We're not going to hurt you,' he repeated, his voice softer than before and soothing.

The young woman's eyes opened and she finally saw clearly that the apprentice was a near opposite of the creature who had taken her. She realized this, yet the memory of her trauma pushed her tighter into the body behind her.

'What's your name?' the apprentice asked, trying to ease more of her terror.

The young woman glanced away quickly. Her eyes flicked to the wall, then back to the young man's face several times before they halted on her bare and bloodied feet.

'Do you have a name?' Qui-Gon's deep voice probed farther when she did not respond.

'Christina,' she whispered.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Christina sat in the corner of the booth with her knees drawn to her chest, hidden in the deep robes loaned by the young man opposite her. The panic had reduced her mind to a glazed numbness, incapable of any semblance of conscious thought. How she had arrived at what appeared to her to be a diner was fogged over by the temporarily controlled but not neglected fear. The men who had stopped her, whoever they were, radiated the same power she was fleeing from, a fact which, despite their apparent differences, would not let her succumb to the peace she felt tempted to fall into.

When the alien waiter approached the booth she cringed and tried to sink further into the hood. Closing her eyes she made a futile attempt to ignore the strange being's existence, foiled by the coarse gargling voice that was anything but human. The longer the being stayed at her side the more agitated she became. The man across from her spoke casually with it for a moment, then glancing at his newly acquired charge diplomatically sent the giant away. From somewhere outside the shell she was hastily building for herself she heard the gentle voice call her name. Frantic to hide within herself she tried to ignore it until a hand resting on her shoulder brought her eyes to meet the gentle green eyes before her.

His lips moved, she could see that. She watched them form words without recognizing the motions or registering sound. The hum of the diner faded into a white buzz that deafened her to all but its force swirling through the rough canvas hood about her ears. Obi-wan took his hand from her shoulder, searching for a way to ease the girl's discomfort, and when he did her lips parted.

After several moments of silence she asked quietly, 'Where am I?'

Obi-wan blinked, pushing his emotions away. 'You're on Coruscant,' he answered, smiling gently and hoping that information would be of some comfort to her.

Christina merely shook her head, her throat constricting around the unformed words. Her eyes glazed over and stared past the man into the darkness beyond the windows. She watched a four armed creature scratch its small elephant-like snout outside before the door swished opened to admit his stringy body. A small fur-covered creature bumped its way past the entrant, mumbling words impossibly formed from an beak-like mouth before exiting.

'This can't be real,' she whispered without thinking.

'I'm sorry?' the man asked, leaning forward slightly.

'You're not real,' she said, her eyes moistening with tears that by all rights should have long been dried up. She looked directly at Obi-wan, her eyes clear for the first time since she ran into them. 'None of this is real. It can't be.'

Obi-wan watched silently, unsure of what to say or do as he watched her debate reason and sight. She closed her eyes and held her breath, her trembling shoulders just barely visible under the bulk of his robe. Tears smeared themselves over her hollow cheeks as her head bowed toward her knees.

'Breathe,' he said, reaching across the table to touch her shoulder. When he received no response he shook her gently before touching her moist skin and pulling her face upward. 'Breathe. You need to breathe.'

Christina gasped and her body lurched forward with a sob, pulling away from the comforting hand clutching her knees as tight as she could.

'Whatever happened, it's over. You're safe with us.'

'No, no I'm not,' she said into the thick fabric. 'They'll find me, and I'll die. No. He'll come after me. He'll do it again, and I can't stop him. He'll have his way, and I will die. Either way, I'm not going home. Home's not here, I don't know where here is. I can't go home. He found me there, I can't go back. I don't know where I am.'

Obi-wan glanced around in search of his master as she continued to speak into her knees, her shoulders shaking and her voice muffled so that the words were barely audible across the table. The taller man had just re-entered, and Obi-wan rose to meet him.

'Master,' he greeted.

Christina shot up, her eyes glazed once again, this time staring into the unseen distance. Her stomach clenched within her, her blood running cold. The remaining tears mingled with the wetness on her cheeks unheeded as her mouth fell open, her eyes widened, and she stopped breathing.

'Christina, breathe!' Obi-wan called to her, quickly seating himself next to her and turning her head toward him. Her eyes stared vacantly through him, unaffected by the physical.

Qui-Gon put his hand on his apprentice's shoulder to move him out of the way and took the young man's seat. 'Christina, what do you see?' he asked, eliciting a confused look from the boy.

She gave him no response. Trying to capture some of her focus, Qui-Gon cupped her face in both hands, gently jostling her vision and calling her for to breathe until a tinge of lucidity flashed across and she drew in a shaking breath. When the blue hue passed from her lips he asked her again.

'Tell me what you see,' he commanded gently.

'I can't see him,' she whispered, her voice strained without air. Her lungs spasmed and crushed her chest, choking the rest of her words as she breathed out, 'but he's there.'

'Breathe,' Qui-Gon chanted quietly, stroking her cheeks in rhythm to sync her breathing with his.

'He knows,' she said, her eyes snapping to attention and focusing on his.

'Who?'

Christina shook her head, tearing again. 'I don't know,' she cried, holding herself in as much as she could.

Qui-Gon released the young woman only to pull her into his arms in an embrace which she did not resist. Stroking her head through his padawan's robe, he tried to soothe her distress as he searched for the path her mind had just released. The ends were unspun and scattered, dancing through time in broken images and feelings. Overwhelmingly he sensed her fear, a pure terror driven from something external and unabated by her separation from it. Releasing a part of himself, Qui0Gon drifted on the currents of that fear, traveling with it through the alleys and corridors of the city-planet into a dark room where a void captured and imprisoned the Force, stealing away from the Jedi Master the rest of the threads.

Outside of the diner a shadow watched, staring at the men inside hovering over the small woman. Below the core of him stirred his loathing of their religion, of everything they stood for and everything they did. He had been ordered to retrieve her, but not at the expense of a confrontation. Whatever ill stroke of luck had driven her into their hands stayed his and spared her for now. Whatever the case, the Jedi would not permit her to kill the child as she had before, and so with patience it would be returned to his master in time. The Sith had mastered patience over the centuries of waiting for the right time. So near now, it would not be sacrificed for such a trivial matter.

She could feel him watching her, but she did not know from where. His eyes were every where. They followed her from the room, though they had not been there. He saw her from a distance. There was no way to escape them, not in the mess of inhuman life teeming across the layers of whatever unknown and godforsaken place she was in. The strong arms around her warmed the surface of her fears and calmed her sobbing to tears alone, but little more. These men said she was safe, but there was nothing in them that could equal the terrible strength and power of the demon and his lord.

Obi-wan turned and looked into the street, his eyes digging into the shadows for the elusive sense. He turned back to see her blood-shot eyes focused into the darkness beyond him.

A/N: My apologies for this chapter sucking... haha, it's been almost 2 years! Scratches head I need to get back into the Star Wars universe... I miss it...


End file.
